By Unconventional Means
by Diana Leto
Summary: Molly Hooper is tired of waiting for Sherlock Bloody Holmes to notice her so she decides to take matters into her own hands.
1. By Unconventional Means

Molly Hooper was tired of waiting for Sherlock Bloody Holmes to notice her. She had tried all of the conventional ways. Changing her hair hadn't worked. Lipstick was a failure. New jumpers might as well have been made of invisible cloth rendering her unseeable. Perfume, nice dresses, even blatantly asking him for coffee had been a no go. She refused to wait around any longer. Conventional means didn't work. Sherlock was, however, an unconventional man, perhaps unconventional means were the way to the mans heart.

It was with this revelation in mind that she hesitantly climbed the stairs to 221B Baker Street. All morning she had formulated her plan. She knew that this would be her one and only chance to get to him. The door was ajar and she took that as a signal to enter the flat.

Sherlock was sitting in his chair, violin in hand, staring absently into the kitchen. Molly approached cautiously, hands held steadily at her side, bag slung over her shoulder. She lowered it to the floor by the door and then continued on her path to Sherlock.

He didn't stir as she sat across from him in John's old chair. He must have moved it back into place from storage. After sitting for a few minutes in complete silence she cleared her throat. He shook himself out of his mind palace and looked over to her. Once she knew that she had his full attention she began to speak.

"Alright Sherlock, I came here today to talk to you about… us." Sherlock didn't say anything but he raised an eyebrow at that. "I have been thinking about that for a long time." She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the next part of her speech.

"Today I came to ask you a question Sherlock. Before you say anything, hear me out. I have come to ask you to marry me." She could see Sherlock struggling to comply with her request to not interrupt and she silently thanked him for that. "Here are my reasons: first, people who are married and are in committed relationships live longer. You could continue to make contributions to the world for decades longer than if you never get married.

"Second, in case of medical emergency you will have someone, namely myself, who is a doctor and is not your brother as your next of kin. I will be the first person they call. You trust me Sherlock, there is no reason to not make that trust official.

"Thirdly, and I know this will be most difficult for you, children. If we have children, which I certainly hope so, they will be magnificent. Brilliant, beautiful, amazing. Whatever they do will be genius level and will leave the world a better place.

"Marriage will bring you many benefits Sherlock, benefits you have always been afraid of, but no longer need to be. Sentiment doesn't have to be for the losing side. Sentiment can make you stronger Sherlock, my love can make you stronger. I will always be there for you, waiting for you to return, I will help you with whatever you need."

Molly allowed her voice to die out, letting silence fill the flat once more. She could see that Sherlock was in his mind, thinking things over. Now it was just a matter of waiting for his response. She tried not to be nervous but she was literally waiting for her future to be decided by the man sitting in front of her.

Three hours passed with Sherlock still in his mind. Molly shuffled around the flat, tidied up a bit, made a cuppa, ate some left over Chinese, or at least attempted it. Her stomach was in knots, keeping her appetite at bay. She sat down in John's chair, her chair if all things went according to plan, and watched as Sherlock slowly emerged from his mind palace once again.

He looked at her and leaned forward slightly. She held her breath waiting for the verdict. Her heart almost stopped as he said one word.

"Yes."


	2. An Unconventional Wedding

The assembled crowd didn't know quite what to make of the scene unfolding before them. John and Mary had been called over to the flat and were surprised to see not only Mrs. Hudson but also Lestrade and Mike Stamford. Mycroft followed them into the flat bringing up rear. Once everyone was in the living room Sherlock began to speak.

"I am sure you all are wondering why I called you here. Molly." Molly emerged from the kitchen in a beautiful cream colored dress. She walked over and stood next to Sherlock, a shy smile on her face. He smiled down at her before taking up where he left off. "Molly and I are getting married." No one said anything. John and Mary stood with their mouths hanging open. Mrs. Hudson was close to tears and had covered her mouth with her hand and a handkerchief that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Lestrade was looking back and forth between the two of them and Mycroft looked as though he had eaten something very sour.

John was the first one to recover. "Wh-when? When are you getting married? How? How did this happen?"

Molly cleared her throat and looked up to Sherlock. He nodded his head and she looked to them. "We're getting married today actually. Mr. Holmes, that is Sherlock's dad, agreed to perform the ceremony. He's ordained and, well, they've already started decorating their house and garden for the ceremony and reception. We, uh, called all of you here to tell you. We've rented two cars to drive over all together. We even have a child seat for Isabel. As for when I proposed yesterday and Sherlock said 'yes' so here we all are. Mycroft was good enough to get the marriage license expedited so we didn't have to wait. No need to really. Sherlock and I have known each other for years and I don't really want a big wedding so…" She waved her hands in front of her as if trying to grasp something.

Everyone turned to look at Mycroft whose face had returned to its normal proportions. He straightened his posture and twirled his ever-present umbrella before filling their unspoken request for clarification.

"Yes well, I did as Dr. Hooper asked but I assumed, quite erroneously, that it was for a case and not some misguided act of sentiment. As it is, yes, Dr. Hooper and my _darling_ little brother will be married this day." He removed from his breast pocket a manilla envelope and handed it to Molly. He then took a ring box from his left trouser pocket and handed it to Sherlock. "This, of course, is our grandmothers wedding set from the lock box." He withdrew from his right trouser pocket a small envelope and handed it to Molly. "This, Dr. Hooper, is our grandfathers wedding band." With that business sorted Mycroft seemed to remove himself entirely from the surrounding affairs and allowed his brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law to answer any more questions.

Mary was the next to speak up. "Sorry, perhaps I'm not following but you two are getting married. That much I understand but, why?" She looked squarely at Molly. "Why would you choose to marry a man you are in love with if he doesn't love you back?" She snuck a look at John. "Marriage should be about love and… trust. How can you marry Sherlock when he doesn't even always remember how to be _friendly_ yet alone loving?"

Molly sighed heavily and walked up to Mary. "I know it doesn't make sense to you, or anyone else, but once Sherlock saw the _logic_ of marriage he and I had a long talk. He understands that this isn't just about benefiting him. This is a marriage between two people and he has promised to do his best. Sherlock is many things. A genius Consulting Detective, a giant child, a total arse, but he isn't a quieter. He won't quite and he won't allow himself to fail. I trust that about him." She looked back at Sherlock and shared a smile with him. "Besides, if he gets out of line I'll just call you and John and then he'll really be in trouble."

The drive out to the Holmes house was quiet but not uncomfortably so. The guests had accepted the change in the relationship between the Pathologist and the Detective after Molly's little speech. John and Mary were asked to stand up with Sherlock and Molly and Lestrade, in lieu of a father-of-the-bride walked Molly down the garden path to Sherlock. The vows were simple yet sweet.

Mrs. Holmes and Mr. Holmes opened up their home to the party and everyone spent a lovely evening together sharing stories of the newly wedded pair. As story after story was shared it became obvious to those gathered that Molly and Sherlock were always quite the pair. Sherlock would ruin Molly's dates and Molly would ruin Sherlock's tirades. Molly would bring Sherlock coffee and Sherlock would bring Molly crisps.

Over the years they had taken care of each other, even helping fake a death, and had insured that the other would always be around. Molly did so by giving Sherlock access to the lab and providing him with body parts for experiments. Sherlock did so by scaring away any potential suitors and, much to his chagrin, flirting with her to keep her favor.

The night came to a close and Molly began to feel nervous once more. This would be her first night as a married woman and, if everything went according to plan, all of her belongings would have been moved into Sherlock's flat while the ceremony was happening. Not Sherlocks flat though, no, it was their flat now. The Holmes' flat. She was Molly Holmes.

Molly was pulled out of her musings by her husband who leaned in close to her ear and whispered a question that made her heart stop.

"Ready to go home Dr. Holmes?"


	3. Unconventional Marriage

Sherlock surprised everyone but Molly with how receptive a spouse he was. He was determined to be the best husband one could possibly be. He did a fair amount of reading on healthy marriage practices, the positive effects of regular intercourse, the preferred timeline for children, etc. He would read and read and then, at the end of the day, he would talk to Molly about everything he had read and would then, after a lengthy discussion, usually over dinner, discard all things they both agreed were useless. Sherlock was surprised at how much information was out there and how much of it was simply hogwash.

They did create a timeline for their marriage. Five years before the first baby, they wanted to get to know each other and just enjoy being married. Then, much to Molly's surprised joy, they agreed on the number of children. Two seemed perfect for them. One of each preferably and separated by two years. They talked about names and whether they wanted pets. They spoke in length about the merits and appropriateness of pet names. Sherlock agreed to using them but not in public and never at a crime scene. She agreed to respect that as long as none of the names were food related or rhymed. She hated rhyming nick names.

Three months into married bliss found Sherlock called away to Cardiff for a week. It was the longest time they had spent apart since getting married. Molly forgot what is was like not having Sherlock around. She spent her first night alone in Baker Street restlessly. The whole flat was as silent as the dead. Every creak and moan of the wood caused her to jump and every whistle of the wind sent a shot of cold down her spine. The week couldn't go by fast enough in Molly's opinion.

That first night Sherlock didn't call to check in, though she didn't expect him to, so she was left lying awake in bed wondering if he was alright. Two days later, day three of his case, Molly couldn't handle it anymore. She was pacing the flat, hardly eating anything, her stomach churning from worry. Just as she had built up the courage to call him her phone buzzed. She looked at the phone and saw Sherlock's name on the screen and sighed in relief.

"Hello?" Her voice shook with emotion as she answered the phone.

"Molly?" He sounded fine, maybe a little winded, but otherwise fine. "Sorry I didn't call before, the thief we were tracking stole our car and all of our stuff. We finally managed to track him down an hour ago." His voice became distant, clearly he was speaking to someone else, probably John. "Yes, yes." He turned his attention back to her. "We should be finished up here tonight, be home in about six hours."

"You're okay though? Nothing happened?"

"I'm fine Molls, really. You'll see when I get home. I'll let you do a full physical if you want." She could hear the smirk in his voice and she matched it with a chuckle of her own.

"I'll take you up on that offer Mister Holmes."

"I'll see you in six hours Doctor Holmes. Love you."

"Love you too. Stay safe."

"Always." As he rang off Molly could hear John giving him the mickey for saying he loved Molly. She just smiled and shook her head. At least Sherlock would be home tonight.


	4. In sickness and Health

Their first Christmas was just a few days away when Molly started to notice the changes. They were subtle at first, almost unnoticeable. It started with the appetite. Food was suddenly becoming more and more scarce in the flat causing her to visit the shop twice a week instead of the usual singular visit.

Next was caffeine. The very smell of coffee caused nausea and that was just no good because exhaustion was the next sign.

Sleep was like a siren, calling out, luring one in only to be fitful and almost as useless as not sleeping at all.

What was she going to do about this? Sherlock would freak out, he was always so inconsolable when something unexpected happened. He would throw a fit and Molly would be the one who would have to deal with that. She thought about calling John and asking for his help but she decided against it. If she couldn't speak to her own husband about something like this than she was not cut out for marriage.

With a heavy heart and a nervous stomach Molly ascended the stairs to her flat after a long shift at the morgue. Of course she knew Sherlock would be waiting for her, he had sent a text indicating as much. She sighed as she paused just on the other side of the door. Slowly she pushed it open and saw what she feared the most.

Sherlock was lounging on the couch, nose red, beads of sweat on his brow, fitfully fighting sleep and the virus that she had suspected has been at work in his system for a few days. This is what she had hoped to avoid. She had silently hoped she was wrong but the signs were all there. Her husband, the Great Consulting Toddler, was sick and she was going to have to take care of him. Great.

Sherlock, as she suspected, was in denial. He wanted nothing more than to keep taking cases and ignoring the fact that his body was shutting down. He had a fever and his whole body was shaking violently as he putt n his Belstaff coat. Just as he was wrapping his favourite scarf around his neck someone knocked on the door. Sherlock looked over to Molly, his face indicating that he was not happy with her having invited John over when they were quarreling. Molly simply raised a confused eyebrow at him and motioned for him to answer the door.

John Watson was indeed the man on the other side of the door but Molly had not invited him. Mary had sent him over on an errand.

"Sherlock, Molly, sorry to pop by unexpected," at this Sherlock looked sheepishly at Molly who simply rolled her eyes at her husband and focused on John. "Mary and I are having a little get together for Christmas day after next and we wanted you both to come." It was at that moment that John noticed just how poorly Sherlock looked. "That is if you're feeling better mate. You look bloody awful. Molly don't you let him leave unless he is 100%. He'll try to trick you or even bully you but he is insufferable when he is sick."

Molly snickered. "I know John, I was the one who took care of him before you came around and you somehow missed the stomach flu fiasco from four years ago." Molly still had a hard time eating Spinach Paneer because of that particular stomach bug that Sherlock had been good enough to share with her. "Didn't you notice when Sherlock went missing for two weeks?"

John shrugged. "He told me he was out of town working on something for his brother and wouldn't be in touch. I just figured it was better if I didn't know. We'd only been flat mates for a few months and I just didn't need more trouble. Any way, thanks for taking care of him. Ring me tomorrow and let me know how he's doing." John waved as he descended the stairs and Molly stood to close the door. As she turned she saw that Sherlock had gone a sickly pale.

"Sherlock?" She stepped forward tentatively. "You okay?"

Sherlock spoke very carefully as though afraid of being too loud and too fast. "Molly, I believe I am-" The remainder of the sentence went unheard and unspoken by either party because it was at that moment that Sherlock threw up all on his and Molly's feet.

Molly's startle cry and Sherlock's heaving were the only sounds to be heard coming from the flat as Mrs. Hudson made her way out. She wasn't planning on sticking around and catching whatever Sherlock had. She blamed it on all of the dead _things_ he kept in his flat. Molly was no help either, the dear, she was the one who brought him all of those blasted body parts.


	5. First Fight

Sherlock Holmes rushed up the stairs to his flat, steam practically coming out of his ears. John Watson followed closely behind nervous as to what he would be witnessing once he reached the top. Sherlock banged the door open and rushed in, John following closely after. Molly Holmes turned quickly in her chair from fright. Her hand quickly coming up to cover her heart.

"Jesus Sherlock! You scared the shit out of me!" John could see her visibly calming herself. Sherlock stormed over unperturbed by her outburst. She looked up at him in confusion as he just stood over her. "What is it? Is everything okay?" She looked around Sherlock to John with a raised eyebrow. John just shrugged and waited to hear what Sherlock had to say.

When Sherlock finally spoke it came out as a hiss, the words fighting out between his clenched teeth. "Can you possibly guess why I am angry with my wife?"

Molly screwed up her face in thought. "No. Honestly Sherlock, just tell me what the hell is going on."

He huffed loudly and motioned wildly around the flat. "Molly! Molly… Molly… Molly… surely you must remember what you did yesterday afternoon. Something perhaps at the Registers Office? Hmm…. Dr. _Holmes._"

Molly paled and looked once again to John for help. "Well… I uh, changed my name. Had it altered on all official records. Is that what you mean?"

"Yes Molly! That's _exactly_ what I mean! Why would you do that? You know that when I agreed to marry you that we spoke at length about this. You didn't have to change your name. I didn't require that. You know this Molly, so why did you do this?"

Molly abruptly stood from her place in the chair and turned to look at Sherlock. "Maybe I wanted to! Did it occur to you that I would want your last name? I changed it, not because you needed that, but because I wanted that. I want to be your wife even in name. I _like_ being Doctor Molly Holmes." She laid her hand on his upper arm and squeezed it gently. Her voice once again returning to a normal octave. "Honestly Sherlock, it really isn't a problem. I love you and i want to be your wife. I _want_ your name. I know I don't need it but I want it. Is that so hard to fathom?"

He looked down at her and shook his head. "No, it isn't that, it's just that I want you to feel like you can make whatever decisions you want. I don't want you to feel bullied or pressured into anything."

She smiled softly. "Oh, Sherlock, if I ever feel like you're pushing me into things I will simply kill you."

Sherlock laughed. "Good to know. Though, if any one could successfully kill me it would be you."

She chuckled and moved closer to him. "I have already killed you _once_."

John beat a hasty retreat just as Sherlock began to snog the breath out of his wife.


	6. Getting Bigger

Trigger Warning: Mention of Infant Death

Sherlock was sitting on the sofa in his flat, waiting for Molly to return home from work so they could make the drive out to visit his parents. It wasn't something he particularly enjoyed but Molly and his parents were quite close. They absolutely adored her, something he perfectly understood, and she clung to them like the family she never had but had always wanted.

He looked down at his usually flat chest and stomach and wrinkled his brow in frustration. He and Molly had been married for six months and already the signs of domesticity were showing. He had gained nearly seven pounds since she had moved into the flat and he had slept more in the last six months than he had in the whole of the year previous. He knew that it was probably a good thing but he couldn't help but feel that Molly was fattening him up.

The door to the flat flew open and an exhausted Molly Holmes entered, her hair in disarray, and bag filled to the brim. She threw off her clothes, apparently unaware of her husband sitting on the sofa. Molly made her way to the bedroom and began grabbing clothes to change in to. Sherlock sat in silence as she took a five minute shower and got dressed.

He sat and thought of what it would be like if Molly were the one that was getting bigger. If she were to start putting on weight, hopefully the weight of pregnancy and not just of domestic bliss, Sherlock was sure he would actually find it appealing. Not that he had a problem with more buxom and full figured women, he didn't, he just wasn't married to one. If Molly were to suddenly double in size it would take some adjusting but he was positive that the only thing that would change would be her wardrobe. Even then, with the way she dressed, a great deal of her clothes would still fit her.

Molly emerged from the bedroom dressed in a lovely blouse and slacks. Her hair was free to air dry and in her hand she held her travel make up case. Determined to hit the road before it got too late she had decided to finish getting read en route. Together they silently made their way down the stairs and into car that they had rented for the day.

"Perhaps we should consider buying a car of our own." Sherlock turned to see if his wife had reacted to his words. She sat silently in the seat not really hearing him. Reaching over to her he spoke again, "Molly?" His strong hand grasped her own limp one. "What happened at work today?" He knew that his deduction was correct because she turned her face away from him. Even after all of this time she was nervous to show him her tears.

Finally after several moments of silence she spoke. "It was a baby. Seven months old." She took a steadying breath. "Parents couldn't handle the stress of parenting and smothered it to death. An innocent child that- could have had a- chance!" She had begun the hiccuping sobs that always accompanied her emotional distress. "If it had just- just been born to the ri- ight parents. Why? Why?" This last 'why' was whispered in a forlorn defeat and Sherlock caressed his wife's hand.

Splitting his attention between the road and his wife was no longer possible so Sherlock pulled over to the side of the road. Once the car was in park he turned his full attention to Molly. "Molls, that child's loss was a great tragedy but you did it an honor by bringing its killers to justice." He grabbed her head and placed a slow, sweet kiss to her forehead. Both closed their eyes, shutting out the world. "There is nothing more you can do for that child." He heard her muffled whine of distress and sorrow. "But you can and will be the best mum to our children. You can be the mum that every child deserves. You are a beautiful, wonderful woman and I am sorry that this has happened to you."

It was in moments likes these that Molly knew her decision to marry Sherlock was justified. He always said the most wonderful things when she needed to hear them. Several minutes later they were back on the road with thoughts of their own future children in their minds. Perhaps, pondered Sherlock, becoming a bigger person wasn't so bad after all.


	7. Just Another Day in the Life

Molly Holmes nee Hooper worked hard at her job. She was the best at it and she knew it to be so. Everyone who walked in to the morgue knew she was the best. Her insufferable husband let people know under no uncertain terms that she was the best and that was why he would only work with her. He had been telling people this for years. Long before they started a relationship and long after. The rest of the morgue staff, saving Mike Stamford, the git, wouldn't even think twice about saying, "shove off you tosser!" to Sherlock if given the chance.

No one really appreciated all that Molly did for Sherlock, in a professional capacity. They all openly acknowledged that she was indeed a competent and perhaps even gifted pathologist. None however truly put any thought into what it took to work with DI Lestrade and Sherlock Holmes. The crazy hours, the lightning speed deductions, the mercurial attitude, the strange smells.

It was the last one that Dr. Samuel Johnston was currently dealing with. Apparently Sherlock was chasing a suspect and the chase led him through several blocks of alleyway that was mottled with some of the most repugnant refuse imaginable. Sherlock thought nothing of this as he strode into the morgue, DI Lestrade and Dr. John Watson trailing behind. The men were there to examine the body of a man that Sherlock suspected was murdered. The murderer being the man who he had chased through the bowels of hell.

"Ah, Dr. Johnston, how good of you to come in, the body is ready?" Sherlock had, of course, called at 4 AM demanding to see a body. Johnston, in his sleep idled mind, had asked the detective why he didn't just have his wife do it? He then received a five minute diatribe explaining that Dr. Holmes was under the weather and would not be in to the hospital the next day any way.

Two weeks into this illness business and everyone was ready to kill Sherlock Holmes. When he wasn't marching about the pathology labs or the morgue he was harassing nurses in the lobby. His experiments were overrunning the place and his temper was as volatile as ever. It wasn't until Dr. Sukhpreet Singh walked in on a private phone call in Dr. Holmes' office that she realized just what was going on.

"Molly, you're sure you're alright? I can come home now if you need me." The silence that filled the room told her that Molly was speaking on the other line.

"Fine, fine." She could almost hear him running his hand through his hair. "But please call me if you are not feeling well. The nausea can cause severe dehydration and you could lose consciousness. Stay hydrated."

Again silence.

"Yes, yes, of course. The place with the wontons. I won't forget….. actually send me a text about it in an hour. I'll forget otherwise."

A heavy sigh filled the office.

"I'm not hovering! I'm not even there! You wouldn't let me stay there! Fine, okay. Alright, I got it."

His impatience was monetary and once again Dr. Singh could hear the sounds of a plaintive Sherlock penetrate the room. "Molly, you will be careful won't you? I just- I love you. Yes I know, but don't forget what the doctor said. Okay, I'll see you in a few hours. I love you."

Sukhpreet beat a hasty retreat before the detective could emerge from the room and catch her eavesdropping. Turns out that the Consulting Detective was simply worried about his sick wife and was taking out his frustration on everyone else. She didn't know why but even though it was completely childish she was willing to accept his harshness if it was proof that the Detective loved her friend.

But Molly had better get well sooner because God forbid if she had to spend another day in the life of Molly Holmes.


	8. Date Night

Date night was like many other things to Sherlock Holmes: an experiment to be conducted. Molly knew that he would excel at whatever he put his mind to, and dates were something at which he was particularly good. Every date, which they went on twice a month, was unique, fun, and absolutely a perfect representation of the two of them. This week, however, John had suggested that instead of Sherlock and Molly doing something alone that he and Mary might join them. Molly had, of course, said 'yes' and that was how Sherlock found himself in his present situation.

Molly and Mary were happily chattering away about _something_ whilst he and John had been relegated to purse carrying duty. How he, the World's Only Consulting Detective, could have ended up in this situation, he did not know. What he did know was that Molly and Mary were 'oohing' and 'aahing' over some infant clothing they had come across on their way to the theatre after dinner. The damn kiosk that housed said clothing was one of many on the street and it seemed that the women were determined to look at everything on every kiosk.

John cleared his throat drawing Sherlocks attention. With a gesture to his watch and a look to the women he indicated exactly what Sherlock was thinking. They were never going to make it to the cinema. At least not at the rate Molly and Mary were going. One high-pitched squeal and the sound of rapid clapping drew the attention of the two husbands yet again.

"It's perfect!" Mary was clapping and laughing loudly at whatever it was that Molly held in her hands. The men cautiously approached their wives. Sherlock and John both stopped short when they caught sight of what Molly held in her hands.

Molly spun around and smiled brightly at them. In her hands she held a dark purple onesie that read, "Consulting Detective in Training." John laughed and Sherlock simply blinked rapidly and then cleared his throat.

He finally managed to speak after several moments had passed in pregnant silence. "Perhaps it was time I reigned in my fan group?" He approached the man who was running the kiosk and deduced that he was simply a seller of these goods and wasn't particularly excited to see Sherlock. _'Not a fan then, good.' _After a lengthy bargaining process Sherlock convinced him to discontinue selling the 'Sherlock Holmes Fan Club' memorabilia. He turned to his wife and smiled. "There, now that that is settled, to the cinema."

Molly raced after him as he quickly walked down the street. "Sherlock! Wait!" He stopped and held out his hand for her to take. She reached out her hand and only then realized that she was still holding the baby clothing. "Oh no, I'll have to go back. Just wait for me okay?"

Strong hands stopped her in her retreat. "Just keep it Molly, I bought everything from the line. You might as well just hold on to that one for now. The others will be delivered to the flat tomorrow."

A surprised laugh escaped her. "You bought all of it?" He nodded as he took her hand in his. She spoke again as they started walking further down the street. "Whatever for?"

He glanced at her and his eyes sparkled in happiness at her obvious amusement. "Well, I figured eventually we would have need of things such as that so I saw no harm in making the investment." He smiled fondly at her as they made their way to their next destination. John and Mary followed silently behind them still in awe of the change in Sherlock and just how perfect their friends were for each other.


End file.
